The Prince's Veil
by Nel
Summary: HP: DH spoilers. A look at the last moments of Severus Snape. Kind of sad, but it gives some much needed closure.


The Prince's Veil

I have to find Harry Potter, I have to find Harry Potter, I have... CALM YOURSELF! He barked at himself. He would need to be rational to get himself out of this. Just clamoring to get to Potter wasn't going to make it happen, he needed to convince the Dark Lord, to sell it... but unfortunately, the Dark Lord seemed to have other plans. This would not do, he had promised. He had made a promise that Harry would know what had to be done, and... he wanted him to know why everything had been done.

The snake was on him now. Pain, pain radiating from his neck to his fingertips to his feet. Everything was pain, and then blissfully numb as he began to forget. But he had to get to Potter! His mind reached out. He felt close, but he was so far away. _Please. _He reached out into the vastness of space and time and the mind and he felt him, closeby. He would know that mind among millions. So much like Lily's, even he had to admit. Willing to die for friends, to defend them to the end, so damn selfless. But maybe if Lily hadn't been so selfless she would be here and not the boy. She hated him for that. She hated him for taking that sacrafice and throwing it away. What had the boy done of note? The Dark Lord roamed free for all his "Chosen One" nonsense and Lily had died.

He thought of her, he thought he could see her. She was nearby... and then suddenly, so was Potter. He was pulling that accursed cloak off his head, he was coming over. Come to watch his worst enemy expire finally? It had to be his dream. But there were tears in his eyes. He was clutching the wound, he was... he was trying to save me. Damnation, why was he being so selfless again? He had done nothing but torment the boy since he arrived at Hogwarts. True, he had protected him from countless sinister events, but the boy was so sure he, Snape, loathed him with every fiber.

But Severus had a secret. He did not hate the boy. Part of him hated him, because of what he was, because he was Potter's son and not HIS son, his and Lily's. But then, she had always thought of him as a friend. Part of him hated the boy because of just how much like James he was, how he was popular and talented and infectious to all those around. But then, those green eyes were staring out at him, Lily's green eyes, and they were shedding tears for a man he thought despised him.

"Take... them... Take them..." he whispered as thoughts began to flow from him. At first he had been obliged only to show him what was necessary, that he would die. That Lily's son would die (and how it wrenched him when he thought of those still, lifeless eyes again). But as he lay there, his memories of Potter, no... Harry's mother... had begun to seep slowly from him. He remembered first meeting Lily. Well, first seeing her. He had been laying in the park in the shade to escape the yelling, and she had come into the park with her sister—the sister that, in the end, was unbelievably cruel to Harry, just like Severus' own parents had been. She had been there, and she had confided in her sister that she could sometimes do strange things, things normal people couldn't do. And she showed Petunia. In her hand she held a fly, and it buzzed meakly between her fingers, and then she closed her eyes and the fly turned into a small pencil eraser. Snape had pushed himself up then, to see what Petunia was screaming about, and saw that stunning girl looking nervous.

"Is there something wrong with me?" she whispered.

"N-no, it's... an amazing talent," she said unconvincingly, but she didn't want to hurt her sister. Yet. And so Snape decided to watch her. He wanted to appraise her talents more than anything else. He, too, had the ability to make strange things happen, but this was no surprise. His mother was a Prince, renouned for her potion making and charms and really quite brilliant. It only followed that he would be. His eyes became unfocused. Potter was gently scooping up his memories—the first time he realized with jealousy that James Potter was besting him in Lily's eyes, the first time they really quarreled, and then, of course, the memory he had already seen. The memory where he was harrassed by the four of them, and in which he had destroyed his and Lily's already tenuous friendship. When Harry saw it, he had, undoubtedly, thought it was because of his moronic father and his scheming little friends, but really, there was nothing worse in that memory than the realization of what he had called her, of how gravely he had insulted her. That had been the end of their friendship. Oh, they had spoken now and then about how life was treating the other. He remembered the clench he felt in his stomach when she had said that she and James were to be married, that she was going to have a baby, that they were going into hiding.

And then he had heard the prophecy. If only nobody had heard it... but somebody had, he had, and he had started the chain of events that lead to, was still, in fact, leading to the Dark Lord's downfall. He hoped. How he hoped. When he had joined him, he hadn't realized... if he had known. Any man that could kill such goodness as Lily Potter... there could be nothing redeemable.

He remembered what it was like when he realized that his report of the prophecy had spurred the Dark Lord into action, into hunting the Potters. What he wouldn't give to trade it for that boy... but perhaps Dumbledore could help? He had been disgusted with the suggestion he made, and Severus had been so deeply ashamed... so terrified of losing her, he would do anything. He would turn on the Dark Lord, he would spy on the Death Eaters. He would do anything, anything! to save her, because he loved her. But then she had died, and he had thought he would die right along with her.

And then he had been charged with watching Harry, looking out for him. The boy attracted trouble, that one, but he unjinxed brooms and followed him like a bat, and he knew the boy hated him, and he hated him back almost as much, for being what he was, but then... there was always Lily in him. He defended the weaker. He was always defending the brilliant Hermione Granger. Regretful would one be, of starting a fight with her! And he had always fought for his friends, been willing to die... too willing, and Severus knew he had his work cut out for him. The boy had to live, because Lily had to live on, because he had promised Dumbledore. And now the boy was condemned to die, because of what he couldn't help being.

His thoughts began to fade. Harry had collected those memories, and he hoped he understood, that all that time he hadn't really hated Harry, he had worked hard to protect him, to keep Dumbledore informed, to keep them informed, but... he didn't understand what it was like to lose her, not like he had. Not first to James, then to Harry, and then to death. Harry didn't understand how hard it was for him, never loved by family, never cherished by friends (a useful colleague for most, but not a friend).

"Look... look at me," he said finally, clutching at the boy's robes. He had to understand. He had to understand why he had been that way to him. He looked into Lily's eyes and felt shame. Because Harry was much more like him that he was every willing to admit. Because Harry had not only lost her, but never had the chance to know her—a terrible fate. Because Harry was unloved by those who should have loved him, but he had allowed himself to be loved by his friends, by the Weasleys, by the professors. He tried to look away, but could not. He would die looking at her eyes.

_I never hated you, Potter,_ he thought. _I loved your mother... and you._

And in that moment, Harry looked into those eyes and saw not a man who had made his life miserable, but a man that, though misguided, had tried his best with what he was given, who had made some terrible decisions. But he also saw acceptance, forgiveness, for, it seemed, even Dumbledore had made choices that were unbecoming. Even his father, his godfather, Remus, had chosen to act when they shouldn't have, or not to when they should have. That forgiveness was enough, because he truly was Lily's son, and James', and he stared into those eyes of his mother's as the light from his eyes faded.

He expected darkness, or maybe pain, but he opened his eyes and saw only bright, blinding light. Dumbledore was there, and Lily, and James, and Sirius, and... oh, had Remus died as well? They were not his friends, but they had come to greet him.

"You did right by him," Dumbledore said gruffly, hiding obvious pride in his voice and taking him by the shoulder and leading him on. And he walked into the vastness of the unknown, but thought that somehow, here, everything he had done had been made insignificant, and all there was was Lily, happy and proud, and James, nodding kindly, and Sirius, nodding curtly, and Remus (and here came Tonks), smiling encouragingly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"We know. Now, let's move forward." The light became heavier as they glided toward a gate, and they walked through it together, leaving Harry, leaving the world, but doubtlessly off on another great adventure.


End file.
